


What Scares Me The Most

by Amsare



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Introspection, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4564083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsare/pseuds/Amsare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is not very sure how he ended up being on top of Erik's firm body, kissing him with eyes closed as if it still meant something.</p><p>
  <i>As if nothing has changed at all.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Scares Me The Most

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it after rewatching DOFP for the millionth time - it should have been longer but in the end this is the result.
> 
> English is not my first language so sorry for any mistake!

Charles is not very sure how he ended up being on top of Erik's firm body, kissing him with eyes closed as if it still meant something.

 

_As if nothing has changed at all._

 

He remembers having a couple of drinks, miserably thinking about how his life had turned darker and sadder in just a decade when Erik unexpectedly showed up at his door.

 

He was so pissed off with him – that selfish bastard – why did he decide to show up after all those years?

 

_Who do you think you are? You are no God._

 

He has thought that punching him right in the face could have been a good way to start their reconciliation but then he jumped on him, kissing him angrily and ending up on the floor.

 

_It seems like yesterday._

 

Charles can taste him – for god's sake, it has been ten years, _ten years_ – and it’s wonderful, it’s inebriating, whisky mixed with _Erik_ , just like before, when they were younger, unaware of what would have happened to them on that cursed beach.

 

_Surreal._

 

Erik's hands travel down his low back, caressing thoughtlessly a particular spot where the bullet scar is as a reminder of pain, rage and betrayal.

 

 _Don't do this_ , Charles thinks and suddenly it hit him in the guts because even if Erik hasn't the helmet on, he can't hear him: his telepathy is gone. God, they always used to talk to each other through their minds, it was as natural as to speak aloud for both of them – but they can’t anymore – and they never will again.

 

He wonders if Erik will notice it at some point or he will limit himself to think Charles doesn’t want to get inside his head because of everything that had happened in Cuba. Well, it’s not nice feeling a coin pushing against your skull, splitting your brain, feeling a silent scream in your own head and then the coldness of death itself after all. Sebastian Shaw was a horrible man but Charles is not very certain if he had deserved to die like that.

 

He wishes he could have run away from that awful feeling, a mind collapsing inside itself; he had felt the agony, the sharp pain in his skull, he had looked into Erik's eyes and for an instant it was like Charles was the one standing in front of him, not Shaw.

 

It was like Erik was hurting _him_ and it was too much to bear.

 

After those events, Charles had a terrible headache for a week, he couldn't sleep nor breathe and he was sure he would have died sooner or later. Then he began taking painkillers, trying to forget the look of pity in the nurses' eyes along with their thoughts – _look at him,_ _he's so young, poor man, he didn't deserve it –_ it made him mad, seriously, all that hypocrisy _._

_They knew nothing._

He didn’t want their compassion: he gritted his teeth, making the dream of a school for younger mutants real, keeping himself busy. He got used to his new routine, firstly without feelings his legs, being constricted on a wheelchair and then using them again thanks to Hank's serum.

 

What a decade he had, really.

 

 _I wish I could hate you_ – he thinks while his mouth is still on Erik's, tears falling down his cheeks. _I wish I could hate you for what you have done to me_ – but he can't, damn it, he just can't and this is what scares him the most.

 

"Charles..." Erik tries to speak but Charles hushes him.

 

"Don't. Please, just... Don't." he murmurs, attacking his lips again, shutting him once for all.

 

Charles doesn’t want to talk: everything will be ruined again if they say something, he knows it.

 

He should have asked him so many questions – _Why are you here all alone? Where are the others? Where is Raven?_ – but Charles gets this thought out of his head, keeping on doing what he’s doing because it’s s better than the harsh reality.

 

Erik grips tight Charles' hair in one hand – it has got longer through the years – keeping him in place while he deepens the kiss, letting slip a muffled moan of pleasure which only excites Charles more; he interrupts the kiss, gasping for air, his front against Charles'.

 

When finally Charles decides to open his eyes, staring into Erik's own, so grey and so familiar, he feels a pain in his chest.

 

 _I missed you_ , he thinks, _I missed you so much._

 

_Too good to be true._

 

***

 

At some point Charles has fallen asleep because he’s opening his eyes, feeling dizzy and tired; he runs a hand through his hair, trying to remember what happened the night before.

 

He’s sweating, body trembling, _aroused_ , heart beating fast: he turns on his side, looking for Erik, expecting to see him in his bed next to him, when the memories of everything came back violently.

 

Erik is not there

 

Erik is not next to him, body asleep, legs tangled in the sheets.

 

It’s 1973.

 

He hasn’t heard any bloody news from that man for ten years – he’s in prison, under the Pentagon, for god's sake – how could it be possible.

 

Everything was just a dream, a strongly vivid dream.

 

He glances at the clock on the bedside table: a quarter past eight in the morning. Charles still can’t believe he was tricked by his own mind.

 

And now thinking about the day he has to face it’s making him feel even more miserable than he is already.

 

"I hate you." Charles speaks aloud, even if there’s nobody to talk to in that empty room. "I hate you because you stole a part of me."

 

It has been ten years since Cuba, ten years since his soul has started bleeding – and it hasn’t stopped yet. Charles can’t see a way to recover; he feels hopeless, lost in that sad world.

 

“I hate you because I miss you, my friend.”

 

 _I love you_ , he tries to say, but only the thought makes him tear up.

 

It wouldn’t change anything anyway.

 

 

 

 


End file.
